


Dark Obsession

by Kittenshift17



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Kidnapping, Obsession, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 00:43:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13493247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittenshift17/pseuds/Kittenshift17
Summary: Draco Malfoy knows there's a darkness inside him. One he can't always control. Especially when Hermione Granger is involved.





	Dark Obsession

****

**Dark Obsession**

_By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 

The cloaked figure made her way up the long and winding path towards the Hogwarts castle sedately. The downpour of rain and the dark clouds that marred the late afternoon made her almost impossible to distinguish from the darkness. The cloak was long and a deep shade of grey that blended well against the dismal backdrop the Forbidden Forest made. She trudged as she made her way towards the Entrance Hall.

He watched her from a second floor window, overlooking the grounds with a sneer marring his pointed face. He didn't need to see what was under the hooded cloak to know it was her. He'd know her anywhere. He'd been watching her for years now. Years he'd spent, learning every nuance of movement, every tenor and tone, every expression. He'd know her even if she changed her face and shore off that mess of dark curls.

His lip curled back in distaste with himself even as he fixated on her movement in the deepening dark. He hated himself for his inability to let his infatuation go. Even the acknowledgement of such ridiculous feelings for the girl was enough to make him sick. He hated himself for being so intrigued by her. For falling into the tangled web of secrets, lies and intrigue the filthy little mudblood had weaved.

She had a gift for it, he would admit. One that had ensnared him well before he had any business caring what it was that women like Hermione Granger did with their time. He was ashamed to say he'd taken the job offered to him as Hogwarts Potion Master because of her. He'd have turned McGonagall down flat if he hadn't been uncomfortably aware of the fact that Granger already worked at the school as the current Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

He'd only been there a couple of months and he cursed the fact that even now he found himself paying more attention to her than to what he was supposed to be doing. He had so hoped that after the war was over and after he'd finished his own schooling he'd have outgrown his ridiculous fascination with her. The fact that he was standing in his office watching her returning from Hogsmeade instead of preparing for the night ahead was despicable.

Tonight was All Hallow's Eve. Halloween. Samhain. The singular night that existed every year when the veil between worlds was thinnest. It was also the night that in the spirit of childish innocence and fun, Granger had talked McGonagall into having a Masquerade Ball in addition to the regular Halloween feast Hogwarts had hosted for many years. He was supposed to be preparing his costume and ensuring that everything would go off without a hitch, as was his responsibility as a Hogwarts teacher.

And instead he was squinting out his window at a woman who rarely looked sideways at him. Narrowing his eyes at her for the fact that she was such an interesting distraction, Draco Malfoy turned his back on the window, leaving her to walk the remaining length of the path to Hogwarts unsupervised. Instead he made a focused and conscious effort toward preparing the rest of his costume for the evening's festivities.

The enormous black feather wings growing out of his back from between his shoulder blades rustled slightly as he adjusted his cloak. He'd gone to special trouble to concoct and brew a potion that allowed a human drinker to temporarily sprout the wings of a dark angel and he was going to be using it to wicked effect this evening. They were so large he wasn't sure how he would go about controlling them all night, but he would do so. Each wing was at least seven feet long and heavily feathered. He knew that if he wanted to he could take flight out his window and swoop down on Granger and he had to resist the urge to do so.

Draco would admit that he had something of a flare for the dramatic and as he picked up his elaborately designed metal mask and slipped it over his face he felt a smirk crawl across his face. To say that he was going to enjoy the anonymity of the Masquerade theme was an understatement. He intended to take full advantage of it, in the most satisfying of ways. The rest of his costume, while impeccable was designed to be memorably forgettable. It was designed to stick in one's mind long enough to inspire interest and curiosity, but not so long that he would be remembered as being the one who'd worn it.

The use of several elaborate charms designed to further disguise his true identity left Draco feeling particularly wicked indeed and he allowed himself a cruel chuckle. Sweeping the deep blue velvet hood of his cloak up to shield his hair from view and to provide himself an air of mystery, he swept out of his office and stalked the halls in silence. Everywhere he went as he made his way towards the Great Hall, children were screaming and laughing. They had been permitted the opportunity to attend Hogsmeade earlier in the week, where many of them had taken the liberty of purchasing costumes for the evening's festivities and if he weren't in such a loathsome mood, Draco might've awarded a few of them house points for their dedication and creativity in choosing their costumes.

He'd always appreciated the dramatic arts and the fact that so many of the students had gone to such effort to truly capture the essence of their costume inspirations was indeed commendable. As he swept into the Great Hall, Draco allowed himself a small smirk of pleasure. Several of the younger students screamed at the sight of him, simply out of fear and surprise over how mysteriously and dangerously anonymous he appeared. The wings were a fantastic touch and he couldn't resist the urge to spread them wide in order to further terrify the children. Unable to see his hair and unable to detect the regular grey of his eyes, he felt their intrigue and fear that he was really some kind of dark creature they'd not learned about yet. It pleased him. If it was having this effect on the students Draco could barely wait to see the effect it would have on Granger.

It had taken him longer than he cared to admit to master the potion he'd used for the wings. They had full movement and he had complete control over them the way he did over every other limb. If he wanted to take flight around the rafters he could.

His eyes scanned the Hall quickly in search of her, lingering on the form of a witch in a full ball gown. He dismissed the woman quickly, realising it was Professor Sinistra and not Granger. Even in Masquerade he had no doubt he would know Granger on sight. She might be able to tame her wild hair and to conceal her familiar face. She might be able to hide herself away inside a costume she would ordinarily never even consider donning. But she couldn't hide from him.

Draco Malfoy had spent twelve long years learning everything about Hermione Granger. It had begun as a simple reconnaissance mission on the orders of his father to investigate those that Harry Potter associated with. But Draco wasn't fool enough to believe that his interest in her hadn't morphed into something else. Something more. He wouldn't say he was in love with her or anything so disgustingly romantic and misinformed. In all honesty he often could barely stand the woman.

She regularly infuriated him and more than once in the past he'd fantasised about doing terrible things to her. His fascination with her bordered on obsession. And not always the good kind. Draco didn't delude himself into believing he was hopelessly in love with her. He wasn't. You couldn't be in love with someone who liked to pretend you didn't exist most of the time. You couldn't love someone who eyed you with disdain when she was forced to acknowledge you were in fact a part of the world. At least, Draco couldn't. More than once he had imagined what it might be like to wrap his hands around her throat and squeeze the life out of her.

More than once he'd fantasised about the way her body would feel between his hands. If he was completely honest, Draco would simply describe his obsession with her as being unhealthy. He was disgusted with himself for having grown obsessed with anyone, but it seemed that fact was not to be helped. There was nothing he could do about it. He knew. He'd tried. He'd tried distracting himself with other witches, bedding some of them, courting others.

None of it had helped. All throughout his own years at Hogwarts and continuing into his adult life, Draco had learned to live with the fact that his mind often wandered to Hermione Jean Granger. No matter the fact that she was a mudblood. No matter the fact that she was a stick in the mud. A tempestuous swot who got on his last bloody nerve more often than not. No matter the fact that she'd been dating that ginger-haired oaf on and off for years. Draco didn't care about any of it.

Well.

That wasn't entirely true. Thoughts of the fact that an oblivious, insensitive sod like Weasley had captured and held her attentions and affections had more than once driven Draco to violence. It bothered him more than he cared to admit that she was so interested in someone so clearly beneath her. She might be an annoying little mudblood, but even Draco knew that she deserved better than the likes of such a gormless bastard as Ronald Weasley. She was brilliant where he was dull. She was clever where Draco had found Weasley to be stupid.

She was meant for bigger things than being chained to a stove raising children and fixing the meals of a man who didn't even appreciate her. Not that Draco wanted her for himself. At least not all the time. Sometimes he wanted her. Sometimes he wanted to shove her against a wall and snog the daylights out of her. Other times he kind of wanted to unleash the cruelty he knew he was capable of and leave her a sobbing, bleeding mess on the floor.

But other times he just wanted to make sure she knew she deserved better than a git like Weasley. Not that she ever acknowledged his existence long enough to hold even a passing conversation with him, let alone to have a serious and frank discussion about her poor life choices. Draco chuckled darkly to himself at the very notion of her doing so. She despised him. That much was clear. She only tolerated his existence for the sake of their jobs, and even that was done frostily.

She preferred to pretend he simply didn't exist and in the two months since he'd taken the position as Potions Master, Draco would admit he'd done all he could get away with in order to provoke her. He made her students late for class. He awarded students points for menial things if Granger had docked points for something else. He purposely collided with her in the corridors as often as he could get away with. He purposely seated himself close to or next to her at meals.

He interrupted her when she spoke and he did all the things that annoyed her. All the things he knew that irked her, learned from the long years he'd spent studying her. And the list as long. He delighted in it. She could hardly pretend he didn't exist when she wanted to scream at him and tear his hair out. She couldn't remain disaffected by him if he made himself a constant thorn in her paw. And Draco was a particularly prickly thorn.

The minute Granger arrived in the Great Hall, Draco became aware of it and his whole body throbbed with desire at what he saw. She was mesmerizing. Draco couldn't help but notice that like him, she had done all she could to achieve anonymity. Her bushy brown curls were gone, temporarily replaced with a sleek silver sheet that hung all the way down her back in a glorious blonde curtain. Her costume had clearly been inspired by a Veela.

She looked phenomenal. There was no hint that she was Hermione Granger, bookish war-heroine turned Hogwarts Professor. The unflattering robes she ordinarily war to work had been discarded, leaving in their wake a form sitting gown of silver silk. Her honey-brown eyes were hidden behind a beautiful white and silver feathered mask and her usual stomping gait had been left behind. In its place was a smooth, alluring stalk of utter seduction and Draco's hands begin to itch with the need to explore every curve she had on display.

Merlin curse it all, she wasn't supposed to be so beautiful.

People stopped mid conversation to stare at her as she walked into the hall and Draco couldn't resist the urge to make a true spectacle. Slowly unfurling the enormous black-feathered wings on his back as he moved, Draco hunted her across the suddenly still dance floor.

None in the hall but Draco himself knew the true identity of the beautiful Veela, nor the Dark Angel, but Draco could hear the shocked whispers and hopeful utterances that he was heading for her. The little witches of the student population with engorged romantic notions were about to see a true romance play out. He hunted her silently, his feet making not a sound as they struck the stone floor. His wings rustled the closer her came and Draco could barely contain the urge he had to pounce on the object of his dark obsession.

She eyes him with hood curiosity and Draco smirked cruelly when he caught sight of just hint of desire in her dark eyes. She couldn't hide from him. Even dressed such, her identifying features blurred and concealed, Draco knew her. He knew everything about this witch.

"I've been waiting for you," he told her when he reached her, adopting a voice he knew she wouldn't recognise as belonging to Draco Malfoy.

"Have you?" she replied and Draco could've died a happy man to hear the sultry tease in her tone.

He didn't speak again. Instead he simply took her hand, drawing her closer until he could grip her waist with his free hand. She played along perfectly, her hand coming up to rest upon his cloaked shoulder, her eyes awestruck as she came so close to his wings. The band struck the cords of a slow song as Draco drew her into a dance. All around the hall, whispers and sighs could be heard above the music at the sight they made and Draco was struck by the appropriateness of their costumes.

Hers was an embodiment of light and love and goodness. Dressed as she was she glowed like a beacon of all that was right in the world. By comparison his own costume was also telling. His hood concealed much of his face, his masking concealing the rest. He'd used charms on his eyes and his hair to hide their usualy light colour beneath a layer of darkness. His wings, black as midnight, embodied his own dark desire. His own wickedness. Draco wasn't fool enough to believe that without the costumes she would ever willingly dance with him.

"And who might you be under all this?" Granger asked, going up on her toes and leaning into him, her face nosing aside his hood until her warm lips brushed his ear.

"You'll never know," Draco promised her, returning to touch with a gaze of his teeth against her earlobe. She quivered in his hold.

"Are those wings actually real?" She wanted to know, her voice turning husky and letting Draco know she was affected by his touch.

"As real as you and I," he told her, furling them close until the length of them wrapped around her. She trembled at the feel of the feathers against her bare flesh and Draco felt her hand leave his shoulder to brush almost fearfully over the feathered limbs. She trembled at the touch as it rocked through him. They might be the result of a potion and only a temporary additive to his body, but they were as sensitive as any other part of him.

"You can feel that?" she asked in a whisper, turning slowly on the spot.

"As much as you can feel this," Draco murmured to her, his eyes feasting on the sight of her sensually plump lips. He brought his hand up slowly to tangle in the hair and the nape of her neck, using the grip to tilt her head back slowly.

He wondered if she would push him away. If she would recall her sometimes boyfriend. He didn't give her the chance to object. Not when he'd been waiting twelve years to taste the sweetness of her tongue. When he brought his lips down to meet hers, she kissed him hungrily. Draco almost staggered at the passion of the kiss she gave him in return, her tongue sweeping tauntingly against his own and a little sigh escaping her. Her small hands clutched at his robes greedily, trying to pull him even closer as though she could barely get enough of him.

Draco's whole body roared to life at the feel of her in his hold. Finally. Every fantasy he'd ever indulged, every wild imagining of how her mouth would taste beneath his paled in comparison to the feelings and the passion she aroused within him in that moment. His arms and his wings furled around her tightly, clutching her close. His heart hammered inside his chest, desperate never to let her be free of him. Not now. Not when he knew how well she fit against him.

He lost himself in the feel of kissing her, his hands wandering her body hungrily, revelling in the way she clutched him just as desperately. She'd clearly forgotten all about Weasley. He couldn't get enough of her. On some distant subconsciousness, Draco knew that they were making a scene, that they were setting a bad example for the students under their care, but Draco couldn't find it within himself to stop. She was like a drug. He craved her with such ferocity that it made his whole body tremble.

The sound of some clearly their throat disapprovingly from close by made Granger jump in his arms, jerking herself back from his lips and pushing on his chest in surprise. Draco unfurled his wings so quickly that several people gasped and the witch interrupting them jumped back in shock. Granger still clutching fistfuls of his robes tightly in her hands, using it as though she couldn't decide if she wanted to shove him away or pull him close again.

"This is hardly appropriate," Headmistress McGonagall scolded them though Draco was barely listening. Granger was staring at him wide eyed in shock, desire and a glimmer of fear flickering in her gaze.

"My apologies, Headmistress," Granger murmured. "Who are you?"

Draco felt a wicked smirk grace his features.

"You'll never know," he swore again, refusing to share his identity. He never would. He needed the witch. Desperately. And he would have her. Whether it would simply be in his bed or chained to him for the rest of his life Draco didn't yet know. All he knew was she would be his.

"You don't even know who this is?" McGonagall demanded, "For that matter I don't either. Both of you reveal yourselves this instant."

"It's me, Headmistress," Granger whispered, "Hermione…."

"Miss Granger?" McGonagall gasped in shock, "What do you think you're doing kissing a perfect stranger…. I thought you and Mr Weasley…"

She trailed off, clearly not wanting to sound judgemental. Granger bit her lip with mortification. Her eyes closed in horror as she recalled her lover and Draco felt the cruel smile on his face grow feral. Weasley would never get her back now. Not now that Draco knew how her delectable mouth tasted.

"Oh my gosh… I…. Let me go, whoever you are! Let me go. I have a fiancé."

Draco saw red at that and his grip on the witch tightened.

"Let me go, I say!" Granger hissed, her brown eyes flashing dangerously.

Draco saw through her anger to the fear within her when his wings rose slowly, stretching to their full and intimidating span.

"Never!" he snarled his answer to her demand in her face. She screamed when his arms encircled her just before air rushed against his feathers, sweeping them both up high into the air. Draco clutched the object of his obsession possessively, unwilling to ever lose her now. She fought in his hold, clearly furious and terrified but Draco was beyond caring. The darkness was back, poisoning his soul and making him crazy. It was the darkness that had inspired fantasies of killing the delicate little witch in his arms.

This time however, the darkness wanted none of her death. It just wanted her. Any way it could have her.


End file.
